


Babysitting (Not A Chance To Simply Contemplate On Life Choices)

by KillJoy998



Series: No One Normal Chooses Their Family [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because no one else fucking will, Clint has to babysit, F/F, M/M, young loki, young thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillJoy998/pseuds/KillJoy998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with specimens that weren't his age just wasn't something he had the patience- or the skill- to succeed at doing. But, well, he'd give it a shot. And if plan B had to be called into action, he's got the number on speed dial.</p><p>((This is just going to be the place where I have a distinct universe in mind, and I'll upload just different days in their lives. Simple and hopefully satisfying :) ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting (Not A Chance To Simply Contemplate On Life Choices)

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved reading uni/college Avenger fics, so I decided to cram them altogether in one site and create a load of one-shots. I have a very distinct universe in mind, and I'll just upload different times/days in their life. Probably not going to be in any particular order- probably chronological, I don't think I'd go back on myself. But that's it. No complete overall plot, but it's just a bit of fun for me to write this. :)

_Children_.

 

They were sneaky, rambunctious, snarky, and _exhausting:_  Clint had never in a million years guessed how much pure effort anyone would have to give into the system if any child in their care would turn out to be fucking _okay_. He'd never needed sleep in his life. Even when sweat trickled down his already soaking wet cells as he allowed revolting and despicable images haunt his subconscious-- it was _never_ anything like this. Hell, he'd take the worst ones and re-watch them over and over and over again if it meant he could take time away from those _brats_.

 

"Mummy always told me I'm a gift from God," Loki had expressed to him earlier on in the day with a look so sombre and depressive, that it made Clint dream about this kid being a reckless dictator.

 

It was _scary_.

 

Gift from bloody Satan more like.

 

"Clint!" Thor cried, slamming straight into Clint's spare room's door before he had the chance to even climb out of his own head.

 

Clint rushed from his current spot on the floor, away from his contemplating, as he realized that he needed to stop abandoning the two kids to start thinking. Apparently, that wasn't how his parents raised him.

 

"Thor," he groaned, scooping the poor kid away from the offending structure.

 

Without even letting the little scamp intervene with a dumb remark, Clint carried the blonde away from his own private setting, placing him down on the mat that was situated in the middle of the living space.

 

His house always seemed far more empty than it should. His parents were out on vacation, and because Clint had invested his previously wasted time in a new view of education, he'd always be stoked up in his room- not that he didn't do that anyway, but now he had good reason to do so. In fact, because he holed himself away so often, his parents decided they'd prefer it if they spent their already quiet life in various locations. He wasn't actually aware of where they were having a blast right now, but he would bet it was somewhere very far away. He loved his family, he did, but sometimes they were... Distracting. Unnerving, almost. So much so that he'd started to enjoy his own company, actually, but his alone time flew out the window once he gained a social life.

 

Funny, he knew, but it still didn't make a lot of sense to him. As soon as he started the local-ish centre of education-- a _college_ , but whatever-- he'd gained so many acquaintances that he thoroughly enjoyed spending time with that he had such a long list he couldn't possibly keep counting them as just acquaintances. Clint Barton had _friends_ ; friends who cherished him, and the affection was returned by him to all of them. They were such an unlikely crew, but they practically owned the site, not even giving others a chance.

 

It was how they rolled, and he wouldn't trade any of it for anything. Except, maybe, having to deal with the tykes that were practically destroying his home.

 

The idea of that was self stimulation; or, that was what his mother had saddled it as. His parents wanted to give him even more direction than just divulging in education, so they decided they'd meet and greet their new neighbours every weekend in hopes of landing Clint a job of some sort. Babysitting was their choice at the start, and it was one that had been stuck through.

 

Even now, nearly a year later, it was still his job and even more of a regular occurrence. Nearly six months ago his parents didn't even offer anymore; Odin and Frigga would just drop by with a huge hopeful smile and a luggage of their two lumps of _joy_.

 

Clint had appreciated it, because he did get paid for it- more than he had actually expected- and because it's not the worst job to be saddled with.

 

" _Clint,_ " the whine droned on for what seemed like forever, finally having the weight to snap Clint out of his head.

 

Again. He really needed to stop doing that. Or, more accurately, needed to make a mental note of the fact he can't have kids when he's older. God help him if he did.

 

" _Thor_ ," he mimicked childishly, bending down to the boy's level.

 

Thor's baby blue eyes pierced Clint's, and he had no idea how to move for a split second. It was like the small, frail child had locked him into place with just one glance-- so fucking powerful for a toddler.

 

Clint was screwed.

 

A rapping knock pounded against the kitchen's archway, which caused Clint to resurface on Earth, whipping his head around to catch a sneak glimpse of Loki ransacking the cupboards. Oh for fuck's sake.

 

"Loki, no, get away from there!" he called over almost pathetically, but he knew the kid would do no such thing.

 

Torn between whether he should just leave Thor to his own destructive advances in favour of locking Loki _in_ a cupboard, he groaned as he finally decided on a safer option. One that wouldn't land him in prison. For one last time he hauled Thor into his arms as he rounded the centre table, scurrying through his school- _college_ \- bag to retrieve his mobile. A device he rarely divulged in, but it was a definite current necessity.

 

The dragged on ringtone echoed inside his head as he bounced Thor in his arms in a hope that it would get Thor to fall asleep. Most of these kid tricks that books teach you don't work on Loki, but they definitely did for Thor, and Clint was lucky enough that at least one of these whippersnappers abided to the set rules. Damn Loki to Hell.

 

Finally, as if he was caught off guard even though _he_ rang _Bruce_ , the gruff, tired voice on the line alarmed him.

 

"Clint?"

 

"Bruce! Yes, right. You answered." It was a bit of an understatement to say he was slightly distracted. By the clashing slam from the kitchen. _Fuck sake_.

 

"Well, yes. You called."

 

"Right, yeah, I did. No, um, Bruce, are you busy? Right now?"

 

"No, I'm not. Clint-- What was that?"

 

 _That_ was Loki emptying the expensive china contents of the top shelf.

 

"I'm babysitting."

 

"Ah."

 

"How long 'til you get here?"

 

"Already on my way."

 

And _that_ was the reason of why Clint _wasn't_ screwed. Thank God for the likes of Bruce Banner.


End file.
